


Don't Sweat the Small Stuff

by saltslimes



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Curses, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, what do YOU think it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-26 17:01:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17145593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltslimes/pseuds/saltslimes
Summary: Ardyn puts a curse on Prompto so that he takes any injuries that the other chocobros incur. Naturally, Prompto opts not to tell them about it.





	Don't Sweat the Small Stuff

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kaciart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaciart/gifts).



> happy christmax Kaci!
> 
> something evil for you to suit your demon ways <3

When Adryn touched him it burned--like hot metal branding skin and Prompto could swear for a second he heard his own flesh sizzle. But he yanked his wrist away and the feeling vanished instantly. And when he checked later, even stripped off the wristband and examined it, there was nothing. He thought he’d seen, just for a second, the impression of some sigil but he stretched the skin tight and there was nothing.

Prompto was on the precipice of some thought when it hit him the first time. It just felt like a blow to the ribs. He wasn’t unfamiliar. What had him gasping and blinking was that it came out of nowhere; hit him like an invisible truck.

He staggered back, wheezed to draw in a breath. Gladio was stumbling back, he’d been knocked aside by the remaining voretooth but he looked more startled than hurt. Prompto sucked in another breath, one which felt a little cleaner, and lined up his shot. He opened his mouth to yell to Gladio, but his chest locked up.

“Gladio,” Noct called with a short whistle, indicating Prompto. Gladio ducked out of the way and Prompto fired. The bullet hit its mark. The voretooth collapsed.

_ When Ardyn touched him it burned, and he said something too low for Prompto to catch, and then he laughed and a second later Noct was stepping in between them, with his back in rigid royal posture and his hands only slightly trembling with useless anger. _

When he was changing in the tent there was a strip of bruising across his ribs to match the invisible force that struck him. 

“I thought that voretooth hit me way harder. Knocked me back pretty good,” Gladio said. He poked the fire idly with the stick he’d been playing with. Prompto pressed a hand to his chest. But when he took a measured breath it didn’t hurt.

If it was just that he probably would have chalked it up to weird coincidence. It was when he was standing by Ignis eating an apple and Ignis was chopping spring onions. He watched the knife slip to slice skin and at the same time he squeezed his eyes shut he felt a sharp pinch in his fingertip.

“Ow!” he cried out, and then opened his eyes. Ignis was looking at him with an almost-bemused expression, one eyebrow quirked.

“It’s okay, Prompto. I missed my finger. Just barely I suppose.” Ignis showed him the clean digit. Prompto laughed and walked away. He went all the way out to the edge of the haven, casually as if he was strolling and thinking. There was blood on the skin of the apple--red on red.

He could have said something then. Arguably, he should have. Maybe it was the surreality of the blood on the apple that kept him from walking back to Ignis and explaining his theory--what Ardyn had done. Maybe it was that it was a problem with no apparent solution. It was magic of some kind, it would wear off… or it wouldn’t.

So he was going to take one (or two, or more) for the team. If he really thought about it, wasn’t that a good thing? He was the least useful component. But this way he could protect his friends. Not just Noct, but Gladio and Ignis as well. And if he told them… There’d be a fight. Noctis wouldn’t fight all out anymore. He’d suggest they stop, take a break they couldn’t afford.

He wiped the blood on his pants and ate the rest of his apple. Back at the campfire Noct and Gladio were having some kind of argument about cup noodles. Prompto fished a band-aid out of one of the shared supply bags and wrapped his finger. If anyone asked, he figured, he could say he cut himself cleaning his weapon.

No one asked.

+-+-+-+

Gladio flexed his shoulder experimentally. Noct was on his phone playing some game, Ignis was in the tent taking a nap or something. Prompto was laying facedown in the dirt beside the fire, for some reason. He was kind of dramatic. He was also wearing Gladio’s jacket, which was kind of annoying. He’d been wearing it for a while.

“I swear I got hit in the shoulder.”

“Maybe you finally learned how to dodge,” Noctis said without looking up. Prompto snorted into the dirt--his laugh cut off in a weird whine. 

“I’m not the one who walks into walls,” Gladio said.

“That happened like once!”

“Three times,” Prompto mumbled from the ground.

“If you’re going to wear my jacket all the time can you not lie in the dirt?” Gladio nudged Prompto with a toe. He pushed himself up onto his elbows and then let out a long groan as he moved into a sitting position. He looked kind of pale--well, more so than usual. His hair was messier, like he hadn’t bothered with the gel much. And he had deep bags under his eyes.

“Shiva’s tits, do you sleep at all?”

“It’d be easier if someone wasn’t always rolling over and crushing me. And snoring,” Prompto said.

“I don’t snore!” Gladio said. “Ignis snores. We’ve been over this.”

“Riiiight,” Prompto and Noctis managed to say in perfect unison. Gladio threw a wooden chopstick at Noct. It bounced off his head without even making him look up from his phone. Prompto scrubbed a hand through his hair.

+-+-+-+

It was okay for the first little while, because he could still sleep. And everyone was in good spirits. They hadn’t used any potions in the last two hunts. Everyone was ready to go again. Noct had perked up in a way he hadn’t almost since they first departed. Iggy’s food tasted extra good because he wasn’t aching anywhere when he made it.

It only took three hunts though--the piercing blow Gladio took to his shoulder tore his shirt but left no mark on his skin. And Prompto bandaged himself awkwardly in the gas station bathroom, holding in every sound. Blood soaked into the back of his shirt, but he made sure it was dry before he shrugged Gladio’s jacket back on.

That was the first night he couldn’t sleep. He lay on his front trying to just breathe, in, out, but nothing worked. He was too hot in his clothes, he was too hot with Gladio’s jacket, there was sweat on the back of his neck that felt cold and unclean and surreal.

Eventually he drifted, in some dizzy place. Terrible sting and terrible storm. He wished it would rain. The last two days there had been clouds over head but they never broke. He drifted but didn’t dream, and woke up tired and parched and aching all over.

But Noctis was getting up, Prompto could hear him rummaging around for his toothbrush. So he pushed himself up and joined the other outside.

“I was planning to suggest a break, but we’ve had such good luck. Another hunt seems doable,” Ignis said, levering out servings of eggs. Prompto swallowed. He could take one more. And honestly, Noct, Iggy, and Gladio were better than him at avoiding damage. The last few injuries had been flukes. A lot of them hadn’t been bad at all, slight bruises that barely bloomed before fading. 

Noctis pulled him aside before they set out.

“Hey man, is something up? You were kind of lagging behind last fight. I called for you twice and it was like you didn’t notice.”

“Sorry dude. Not all of us are trained from birth, ha-ha. But I’ll try to get it together.”

“Okay. Uh. Okay.” 

He caught sight of Noctis and Ignis having a quiet discussion when he and Gladio were packing up the car. He was barely helping because lifting anything heavier than ten pounds made him feel like something in him would tear open.

“Come on man, can you put a little effort in?” Gladio grumbled, shoving the cooler into his arms.

“Yeah, sorry.” Gladio turned away to pack up one of the tent bags then, so he didn’t see Prompto blinking hard to dispel the sudden tears that sprang to his eyes.

+-+-+-+

Ignis was too far out of reach when he saw the MT assassin strike. He was too far out of reach and he had no way to cross the distance, he called out to Noct but it was too late to warp--it was too late to do anything. He heard the blade pierce flesh and he was running, and Noctis groaned, gripped the sword with one hand and used the other arm to strike the MT’s head from its neck.

He tossed the sword to the side and Ignis pulled up short, gaping. Gladio was across the field, dispatching the last two troopers. He looked over curiously. He’d seen Noctis get hit too, surely. But Noctis turned around clean of blood.

“Didn’t break the skin,” he said, lifting up his shirt to reveal miraculously unblemished flesh. Ignis blinked. But even if it didn’t, he still took a hit. He  _ saw _ him stagger back. There could easily be internal injuries.

“Still, I’d like to leave so we can assess those injuries,” Ignis said, and Gladio nodded in agreement. Noctis could be riding down on adrenaline, and it would keep him up until it was too late. They started for the car. Ignis had a sense of something slightly out of place (like he used to when he entered a room with the table settings backwards) and looked back to see Prompto lagging, one arm wrapped across his front and fisted in Gladio’s jacket. 

He huffed. He didn’t know what Prompto was doing in the fight to get so tired. He’d barely seen him do anything, besides miss a short and seemingly trip over his own feet. Prompto had never been their top fighter, and he wasn’t expected to be, but lately his performance was more than sloppy.

“Prompto! Pick it up would you? We’re leaving.”

“Yes, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get Noctis out of here so I can check him over more thoroughly.” Ignis didn’t miss Noct rolling his eyes, but Prompto indeed picked up the pace. He stopped short only a few feet from the car, and let out a weird noise between a cough and an indrawn breath. It almost sounded like he was sneezing backwards.

“Prom! This week, come on,” Gladio said, hopping into the passenger seat. He didn’t usually like to ride shotgun, but any day he was feeling impatient he’d take the seat. Or, Ignis had noted, times when he was feeling particularly protective of Noct. Prompto just dipped his head and climbed into the back beside Noctis. He was breathing heavily.

“How are you so worn out, you barely even did anything? I’ve seen you run more as a warm-up,” Gladio scoffed. Ignis had been about to turn on the engine but he paused, glancing into the back seat where Prompto was sitting. He looked small in Gladio’s jacket, like he was drowning in it. There was sweat shining on his face.

“Prompto, did--” Ignis started, but before he could get wherever that question was going Prompto let out a half-aborted cough and thick red-black fluid dribbled out of his mouth. He clapped a hand over it but it oozed out from between his fingers. The soft thud was probably Noct’s phone hitting the floor mats. 

“Sorry, I don’t--shit, sorry,” Prompto mumbled, fumbling around for the pack of tissues that was generally shoved somewhere under one of the front seats. Ignis got out and ushered Noctis out with a wave of his hand. He climbed into the back beside Prompto. He was breathing heavily. Like he was straining to draw a breath.

“Prompto?” he asked.

“Sorry. I’m good, I’m good to go,” Prompto said, which was essentially nonsense. Gladio was turned around in his seat and Ignis could feel Noct practically vibrating with terrified energy.

Ignis pushed the jacket open and lifted Prompto’s shirt. It was wet already, he had to peel it up and Prompto hissed in pain when he did. Ignis swallowed.

“Someone give me an Elixir.”

“How bad is it?” Noct asked.

“When the hell did he get hit?” Gladio said.

“Elixir, now. I have a working theory.” Ignis pushed Prompto’s shirt a little higher. That bruise on his ribs… hadn’t Ignis taken a blow in that exact spot that never bruised like he thought it would? Noctis handed him an elixir, and he wasted no time breaking it over Prompto’s chest.

Nothing. The wounds shimmered like they should heal, and then remained unchanged. So, new plan. Recalculate.

“We need to go, now. He needs medical care.” Ignis switched places with Gladio, since his first aid was better drilled than Noct’s. As they were changing places the band-aid on Prompto’s index finger didn’t escape his notice. He didn’t miss with the knife, did he? It hadn’t felt like he missed, but there was no pain, so it was the only logical explanation.

“This is magic, right? What if we get him to a hospital and they can’t do anything?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we arrive at it,” Ignis said, and pressed the pedal to the floor.

+-+-+-+

Prompto was awake for some part of arriving at the hospital, which sucked. People kept asking him questions he didn’t know the answers to. Noct was glaring at him every time he looked his direction.

Then he was gone for a while. When he was back in his body he didn’t recognize the ceiling. His mouth tasted like the underside of a couch. Someone reached out and touched his hand.

“You fucked up big time, kid.” That was Gladio’s voice. Prompto looked up, trying to swallow. His throat was so dry. He felt his face kind of crumbling in. “Aw shit, wait,” Gladio said. He grabbed one of Prompto’s hands “I didn’t mean--come on kid.”

“You’re making him cry? How did you even do that?” that was Noctis, and a second later he came into view. So it was all for nothing. They were stopped when they couldn’t afford it. They were in a hospital, which couldn’t be cheap. Prompto tried to hold in a sob but it just made everything hurt more. Parts of his body were screaming to be noticed.

“They said that--oh. You’re awake.” Ignis paused in the doorway, and then glanced to Gladio, who had one eye shut, sort of looking like he was anticipating a blow. “You do have a pretty lengthy lecture about transparency coming your way.”

“And self-respect,” Noctis dropped down to sit on the end of the bed. He looked caught somewhere between furious and woken-from-a-nightmare. But when Prompto caught his eyes his face softened. They let him take his time in telling it, which was nice because part-way through he got so tired and hurt so much he had to go back to sleep.

But when he woke up again they were still there, still waiting to listen. And even if they didn’t like it, they understood. Even if Noct hated it, on some level he understood. When he touched Prompto’s cheek his hands were shaking. When he wrapped him in his arms though, his body was solid and firm. His embrace scored away all the weakest parts of him.

**Author's Note:**

> working doc title: god wont let me die


End file.
